


Tied by Fate

by tarthiana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oathkeepers Secret Santa, Red String of Fate, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarthiana/pseuds/tarthiana
Summary: Brienne of Tarth was an atheist. The Mother didn’t comfort her when hers was cruelly taken away, the Father didn’t give her strength when her brother drowned in the sea, and the Warrior didn’t protect her from the vicious words and hands of her septa.But the morning after her victory at the Bitterbridge melee, the Maiden gave Brienne a gift.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 23
Kudos: 154
Collections: Oathkeepers Secret Santa 2019





	1. I am his, and he is mine.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fowlaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowlaaa/gifts).



> This is my secret Santa gift for fowlaaa 🎅
> 
> Thank you [aliveanddrunkonsunlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight) for betaing this 🎄

Brienne of Tarth was an atheist. The Mother didn’t comfort her when hers was cruelly taken away, the Father didn’t give her strength when her brother drowned in the sea, and the Warrior didn’t protect her from the vicious words and hands of her septa.

But the morning after her victory at the Bitterbridge melee, the Maiden gave Brienne a gift.

She woke to find a red string tied to her right pinky finger. The string was a brilliant crimson and seemed to extend forever. She gazed at it in awe, recalling the song of the Maiden’s Red String.

If you were true of heart the Maiden would tie a red string to your finger, and if you followed the path it lead, you would find your soulmate attached at the other end.

A thousand thoughts came to Brienne, but the prevailing notion was confusion. She had made peace with her romantic prospects; Brienne was ugly. Not plane, not unattractive – ugly. Her blotchy freckles, twice broken nose, large mouth and masculine frame made Brienne the target of scorn and ridicule. 

She had accepted her fate. But now, she had a soulmate?

Her head spun.

* * *

No one in the camp seemed to notice the Maiden’s string. In fact, no one paid much attention to Brienne. After the berating from Randall Tarley, no men other than King Renly and his Rainbow Guard approached her. _Good_ , Brienne thought bitterly. _They will receive a kiss from my morning star if they dared to_.

Brienne performed her necessary duties throughout the day and returned to her small tent with her supper. Before eating, she knelt at her bedroll and prayed for the first time as a woman.

_Maiden, who would love a woman like me?_

Brienne didn’t receive an answer – only silence. With a huff, she abandoned her prayers and ate her pitiful meal.

She secretly hoped her string would lead her to Renly, but the logical part of Brienne knew they could never be a match. It still made her heart ache.

Late in the night she followed the red thread into the cold. It floated in the air, weightless and twinkling in the moonlight.

She followed it to the edges of the camp, but found that she could not take a step beyond that. Her duty was to her king, and honor bound Brienne from leaving.

_I wasn’t meant for love._

She returned to her tent.

* * *

Her king has died. She failed him.

Her king was murdered. She stood powerless as it happened.

Her king was gone. She feels untethered, floating beside her body as it rides to Riverrun with Catelyn Stark.

* * *

She had pledged herself to Lady Stark and followed her like a tall, blue shadow. They were a unique sight in the northern camp.

Catelyn is almost like a mother, but Brienne’s heart remained armored.

When they were not together, Brienne would train with a sword, slashing the bark from trees instead of an opponent. No one would fight her.

At night, Renly haunted her.

The Maiden’s string anchored her to the present. She wrapped it around her fist and held it to her rapidly beating heart.

* * *

Whispers of “Kingslayer” swirl throughout Riverrun. The northern forces returned, drunk on victory and sour ale.

They dragged him through the muddy camp in chains. He smirked defiantly even as rotting food and sharp insults were thrown.

He spent weeks in the dungeons of Riverrun before Brienne ever saw him.

Chained and bound, covered in filth and smelling worse than a latrine - the Kingslayer still had the beauty of a demigod. It was unfair. How could a man so devoid of honor be blessed with such handsomeness? It was another cruel jape from the gods, Brienne thought bitterly.

It was then Brienne noticed the crimson string faintly glowing in the moonlight. The Kingslayer was tied to the other end.

It was as if she had smacked her head into a castle wall. Blood rushed to her head, and her ears rang.

_How?_

Catelyn was talking to him, but Brienne couldn’t understand what they were saying. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought it would burst through her chest. Sweat beaded on her brow and palms as her breathing became shallow.

“Brienne,” Catelyn said, bringing the sworn sword’s attention back to the scene playing out in front of her.

“No, that wasn’t it,” the Kingslayer quipped. “When your lord husband came home with some whore’s baby, did you pretend to love it? No, you’re not very good at pretending. You’re an honest woman.”

Lady Stark kept her head held high as he spat the poisoned truth at her. She kept her mouth pressed in a tight, thin line.

Once the posturing was done, terms were discussed and in the end Brienne was ordered to escort Jaime Lannister to King’s Landing in exchange for Sansa and Arya Stark. She would take him immediately, before the revelry in the camp died and soldiers became suspicious.

Then, the Kingslayer focused his sight on Brienne, and she _knew_. He could see the Maiden’s string too.

* * *

“The gods are truly malevolent to give me a soulmate as dour as you,” the Kingslayer sighed.

Brienne pulled his restraints, and he stumbled toward her. “Walk,” she ordered.

“So loquacious,” he teased. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Do you?” she spat, venom in her voice. The man was as annoying as he was arrogant. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

* * *

Three women dangled from a tree. Their lifeless bodies swayed in the wind as crows circled above. The stench of rotting flesh was unmistakable and made both of them gag.

“They laid with lions,” the Kingslayer read from the sign nailed to the tree.

_They deserve a proper burial. No one should be a feast for crows._

Of course, Brienne and the Kingslayer fought about what should and should not be done, bickering until they were interrupted by northern soldiers. As she slit the throat of the last man, Brienne looked to her captive. His eyes were wide with awe and admiration. It made her heart beat a little faster.

* * *

She should have never let her guard down. Brienne lamented her mistake as she blocked a leftward blow from the Kingslayer. He’d stolen her secondary sword and was now trying to end her life, or at least get her to yield, something she would never do.

Steel met steel with hot, white sparks. Blow after blow after blow.

Though he was starved and filthy and hadn’t held a sword in more than a year, the Kingslayer was proving to be the most challenging opponent Brienne had ever faced.

He eventually tired and gave her the opportunity to knock him to the ground. Brienne demanded he yield as she nearly drowned him in a shallow stream.

He never did.

* * *

They were bound together tightly by rope from the band of outlaws who called themselves The Brave Companions, though the smallfolk deemed them The Bloody Mummers. They sat back to back on a horse that was carrying them to whatever thrice-damned location the outlaws determined.

“When we stop tonight, they will rape you,” the Kingslayer whispered. “Do not fight it. It’s best to just...go away inside.”

“Would you let them rape you?” Brienne huffed.

“No.”

“Then don’t ask me to do the same.”

“They’ll kill you, you know.”

Brienne didn’t respond; she knew what awaited her. His gentle tug on the Maiden’s string was almost comforting.

* * *

It took three men to hold Brienne down. Thrashing, kicking, biting when one got close enough to her mouth – Brienne wasn’t going to be a passive participant. The men smelled worse than their horses, and she tried not to breathe between her ear-splitting screams that hauntingly echoed through the woods.

Then, Brienne heard the Kingslayer shout “sapphires,” and suddenly she was being dragged back to the campfire, maidenhead intact.

_What has he done?_

“This bitch better be worth it,” the leader sneered, malicious intent in his eyes. For a moment the two captives were able to share a look of understanding. He had saved her virtue. He had saved her life.

It cost the Kingslayer his sword hand.

* * *

His right hand had been tied around his neck. It currently sat squished between them, as the Bloody Mummers decided to tie them face to face that day. The putrid stink of rotting flesh and infection hung thick in the air.

The Maiden’s string became duller and more translucent as the Kingslayer slipped further away. The realization that _her soulmate_ would soon be taken by the Stranger made her blood run cold.

“He needs a maester,” Brienne pleaded. Their captors laughed at the Kingslayer’s pain. “He is going to die, and you won’t see a single dragon from his father or the crown. I’m sure Lord Bolton will not be pleased either.” That got their attention.

They allowed Brienne to bathe him in a nearby river. They both shivered – her from cold water and him from fever. Gentle hands washed away what filth they could.

* * *

The Kingslayer’s eyes had remained closed for the better part of an hour, and his breathing became noticeably shallow.

“What are you doing?” Brienne hissed.

“Dying,” he whispered back.

“No, you must live.”

“What would be the point of that?” he asked.

“You have only lost a hand-”

“I _was_ that hand,” he interrupted with what anger he could muster.

“Do it for me,” Brienne whispered. “Live because I desire it.”

The Kingslayer did not respond, but the Maiden’s string began to glow between them with renewed vigor.


	2. From this day, until the end of my days.

They had finally reached Harrenhal and were dragged to the feet of Roose Bolton. The pale man had them unbound and called for a maester. Brienne and the Kingslayer were whisked away to separate parts of the caste to be tended to.

It felt odd not being near him, Brienne thought. She hoped the maester would be able to cure the infection that had set in the Kingslayer’s wrist.

After her cuts were stitched and wounds cleaned, Brienne made her way to the bathhouse. A hot bath was a luxury she had not been afforded since her departure from Tarth.

Wincing as she stripped her ratty clothing, Brienne sank into the steaming water with a sigh. She cleaned her body and hair with hard lye soap until a figure made its way through the mist.

It was the Kingslayer, naked as his name day.

She couldn’t stop the hot blush down her face and neck when he entered the same pool as her.

_ He looks half a god.  _ His visible ribs, bandaged arm and gaunt cheeks made Brienne reconsider.  _ He looks half a corpse. _

The Kingslayer made harsh japes and spewed insults; Brienne returned them in kind and stood defiant in front of him, uncaring about her nakedness. Let the Kingslayer see that she was a woman, a woman stronger than him.

He saw. He apologized, trying to conceal the arousal between his legs and failing.

His cock stood thick and red against his untanned skin. Averting her eyes, Brienne began to leave the pool before the signs of her own arousal became evident.

“Don’t leave,” the Kingslayer said softly.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Brienne whispered. “It’s improper.”

“Since when do you care about propriety?” he laughed. “We are soulmates, Wench. Truce?”

“You need trust to have a truse.”

“I trust you,” he said in a low voice. She stared at him, judging his sincerity. When she stayed in the pool, the Kingslayer waded across it and sat next to her.

Then, the truth poured out of him – the horrible story of the mad king, his relationship with his sister, everything.

He became more and more animated as his tale was told, emotion taking hold. When he finished a bought of dizziness caused him to collapse into Brienne’s arms. She held close to her body, calling for help in a panicked voice.

“Someone!” She screamed. “Help! The Kingslayer!”

“Jaime,” he coughed. “My name is Jaime…”

* * *

Roose Bolton had let Jaime leave Harrenhal, but forced Brienne to stay behind. The two had parted as amicably as they could.

Now, Brienne awaited her fate in a small locked room covered in sheets and dust. She pushed the thoughts about what the men may do to her that night away by looping the Maiden’s string around her finger, over and over again.

The pink monstrosity she was stuffed in almost ripped at the seams when she began to exercise to pass the time.

At midday, she was escorted into the bear pit of the castle, a wooden sword thrown at her feet. Cheering rang out as a massive bear was released.

_ I will not back down! _

She did her best to avoid the beast at first, tumbling away when it swiped at her. She began to tire and the bear raked its claws between her shoulder and neck. Brienne cried out, and the spectators howled with laughter.

Through her pain, Brienne swore she felt the Maiden’s string vibrate. And then, Jaime Lannister jumped into the pit, shielding her from attack.

She looked at him in awe as they were pulled from the pit.

* * *

The ride to King’s Landing was blessedly uneventful. Jaime made the caravan stop at a market so that he could procure clothing for Brienne that suited her better.

As they passed through the city’s gates, no one paid them a second glance. Weary travelers had become commonplace as the war dragged on.

Once inside the Red Keep, Brienne and Jaime were accosted by White Cloaks led by Loras Tyrell, who spat false accusations at Brienne.

“These are falsehoods, Loras,” Jaime explained. “Lady Brienne is as innocent as a babe.”

Loras huffed and had Brienne escorted away. “That creature killed Renly,” he seethed.

“ _ Lady  _ Brienne did no such thing. She is far too honorable.”

“What do  _ you _ know of honor?”

* * *

Eventually, Brienne was released and allowed passage throughout the Red Keep. She kept busy by training in the yard. Rarely did she see Jaime.

One day he came to her room, visibly upset.

“Ser Jaime, what troubles you?” she asked.

“My sweet sister...she…” he sighed. “It’s not safe for you here. You must fulfill your oath, and I must...reason with Cersei.”

“She knows about...us?”

“Not the maiden’s string, but she has taken notice of you.”

“Oh…”

“Come, I have a parting gift for you.”

He led Brienne to his office in the White Sword Tower where he gave her the most beautiful gift imaginable: perfect blue armor and a Valyrian steel sword.

“All great swords have names,” he began, “Call this one Oathkeeper, if it pleases you.”

“It does,” Brienne breathed as she unsheathed the magnificent blade.

“I do not wish to be parted so soon,” Jaime said. “But I am needed here.” Brienne sadly lowered her eyes. “Know that I am with you on your journey, Wench.”

Jaime took Brienne’s right hand in his left. “I am at the other end of this red string. We will meet again.”

Slowly, he took Brienne into his arms and kissed her plush lips.

* * *

Brienne and Podrick rode into the Lannister camp on horseback. With every step closer to Jaime’s tent Brienne’s stomach knotted. They had been separated far too long.

When she finally entered, Jaime froze in shock. They quickly caught each other up to speed on their activities. Brienne had delivered Sansa to Winterfell, something Jaime thought to be impossible. He stared at her in awe and wonder as she recounted the tale.

He told her of his purpose in Riverrun, and the room became cold. They were on opposing sides of a conflict.

And yet, they embraced, and kissed, and sighed into the other’s ear.

“Come with me,” Brienne whispered to him.

So he did.

* * *

They were married on their way north. Stopping in at a small sept with only Podrick, the septon and the gods as their witnesses.

“I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days,” Jaime said with glassy eyes.

“I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days,” Brienne echoed.

They tied a purple ribbon around their hands, and the Maiden’s string brightly glowed around their fists.

* * *

Jaime was hot and hard between Brienne’s legs. His face was wet with her arousal after licking her cunt until her legs shook uncontrollably, and she fell apart under him.

“Let me lick the honey from your hair, my maiden fair,” he teased.

The pleasure was so great that Brienne forgot her embarrassment and lack of experience. She kissed him hard, wrapping her arms tightly around him as her cunt dripped.

Jaime was as gentle as Brienne would let him be when he thrust into her.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispered in her ear as his cock moved within. “My wench. My  _ wife _ .”

Brienne whimpered as his thrusts became more frantic. Biting the scarred junction of her neck and shoulder, Jaime came with a shuddering moan.

“Winter is coming for us, my no longer maid of Tarth,” Jaime said when their bedding was finished and they laid wrapped around each other.

“And we’ll face it together,” Brienne said.

**Author's Note:**

> ✧･ﾟ: 🅜🅔🅡🅡🅨 🅒🅗🅡🅘🅢🅣🅜🅐🅢:･ﾟ✧


End file.
